


Here Come the Outlaws

by Pony Girl (Jackjunkie)



Category: Alias Smith and Jones, Here Come the Brides
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackjunkie/pseuds/Pony%20Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heyes and Curry make some new friends in Seattle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Come the Outlaws

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Just You, Me and the Governor #5

Hannibal Heyes peered around the corner of a large wooden  
crate. When no bullet came whistling past his head, he took a  
chance and darted across to the cover of a pile of smaller  
crates. Kid Curry darted after him.

"Do you think we lost 'em, Heyes?"

"Could be, Kid. These docks are such a maze with all this  
cargo being loaded and unloaded, a body could get lost real easy  
around here. In fact, it's probably the best place in all of  
Frisco to hide." A bullet pinged into the crate near his  
shoulder. "Or maybe not."

The Kid fired a shot in the general direction the bullet had  
come from, and they took off running, followed by shouts of "Over  
here! I found 'em. This way!" They zig-zagged their way in and  
out, around and over the boxes of all shapes and sizes that  
littered the San Francisco docks. Finally they stopped, leaning  
against a box to catch their breath.

"Heyes, is there _any_ place in Frisco we can hide right now?"  
the Kid managed to gasp.

"I dunno, Kid. We're fast runnin' outta options," Heyes  
replied, huffing and puffing. He squinted out over the bay. A  
slow smile spread across his face. "Course, we don't have to  
limit ourselves to hiding _in_ Frisco."

"Huh?" The Kid looked at his partner, uncomprehending. He  
followed his gaze toward the water. A small ship was preparing  
to cast off. He made out the letters of her name--the _Seamus  
O'Flinn_.

Heyes clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "How're your sea  
legs, Kid? I think we're goin' for a sail." He pushed away from  
the box and headed for the ship. Curry had no choice but to  
follow. They sprinted up the gangplank and leapt aboard, then  
turned to help the startled sailors pull it up behind them.

"Here, what's all this then?" A scruffy old salt with a  
thick Irish accent headed straight for them. "What do ye'se  
think ye're doin' bargin' onto my ship like that? A couple of  
stowaways, is it? Why, you black-hearted, swill-eatin' bilge  
rats, I'll..."

"Nooo, captain, not stowaways, not at all. I assure you we  
have money to pay our passage," Heyes soothed as he turned a  
dazzling smile on the outraged captain and patted the carpetbag  
he was carrying.

The captain was not mollified. "Passage money is it?" he  
blustered. "Well, that's a very havey-cavey way to board a ship  
if ye're intending to book passage in the ordinary way, now isn't  
it? What d'ye have to say to that?"

"Captain, captain, my partner and I merely found ourselves  
with the need to leave San Francisco in something of a hurry, you  
understand, and there simply wasn't time to make the arrangements  
beforehand. In fact, we almost didn't make it here at all. We  
didn't want to miss this voyage to, uh, to, uh..."

"Seattle," the captain filled in.

"Right, Seattle, because who's to say when we'd have  
another, er, opportunity like this again? Thus, our rather  
informal arrival." He inhaled, and from amongst the various  
aromas that pervaded the captain's person he detected the  
distinct one of whiskey. "So, captain, why don't we go below and  
have a drink and we can settle the question of a fee like  
civilized businessmen. Let me introduce myself, Joshua Smith,  
and my partner here is Thaddeus Jones."

The captain eyed them both for a moment, and then broke into  
a grin. "Eh, lad, ye're a man after my own heart. A drink, is  
it? Aye, we'll have some good Irish whiskey and settle  
everything. Captain Roland Francis Clancy, at your service." He  
looked around at his crew. "Eh, ye scurvy wasters, why are ye  
not casting off already? Set sail, set sail."

The crew set to work, and they began to pull away from the  
dock.

"Smith, is it? Are ye sure ye've not got some Irish blood  
in ye, lad? Ye've the gift for blarney, ye have." He chuckled  
as he led the way belowdecks.

Heyes smiled at the expanse of water slowly growing and  
putting distance between them and the city of San Francisco, and  
prepared to follow the captain. Behind him, the Kid murmured,  
"Heyes? I just got one question."

"What's that, Kid?"

"Where the devil's Seattle?"

*****

They soon established Seattle was in Washington Territory,  
but that didn't enlighten them much. They both had a hazy notion  
about Washington's being north of Oregon, but they'd never been  
up that far before.

"Picture it, Kid. A whole territory where maybe no one's  
ever even heard of Hannibal Heyes or Kid Curry. I don't know why  
we never thought of heading up this way before."

Captain Clancy soon supplied them with plenty of information  
about their unexpected destination. Once they were accepted as  
paying customers, he was happy to answer all their questions,  
especially when he had a drop or two of whiskey in him.

Apparently Seattle was a small but thriving frontier  
community. The cousins wasted no time in discovering the most  
significant (to them) statistic: Seattle had no sheriff.

"No lawman at all?" Heyes asked, pouring Clancy another  
drink and trying to suppress the note of glee that was creeping  
into his voice. "And no jail?"

"Augh, no, there's no need for any lawman in Seattle,"  
Clancy declaimed. "It's a very law-abidin' place, it is. And as  
for a jail, well, there is a wee one, a shed really, that the  
town uses to lock up anyone who might get up to a bit of mischief  
now and then, but that's all. We have no need for a fancy city  
jail."

"Imagine that," Heyes said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Imagine," the Kid agreed.

Clancy made regular runs between San Francisco and Seattle,  
and was therefore well acquainted with its occupants. The  
leading citizens were Aaron Stemple who ran a sawmill and Jason  
Bolt who, with his brothers Joshua and Jeremy, ran a logging  
operation on nearby Bridal Veil Mountain. There was a saloon, a  
church, and a general store. And one hundred brides.

"Did you say 'brides'?" asked the Kid in puzzlement. "Do  
you mean women?"

"Aye, lad, what else would I be meaning? There weren't  
enough women in Seattle, and the loggers were threatening to  
leave, d'ye see, so Jason Bolt came up with a plan to bring one  
hundred marriageable females out from New Bedford to settle there  
and raise families. Sailed them around the Horn, I did. That  
was a long trip, and a costly one, yes. The townspeople of  
Seattle raised the money, though it was Aaron Stemple who  
contributed the most, and he made the Bolts put up their mountain  
as collateral, he did. If any one of the brides turns out not to  
be 'marriageable' or doesn't stay at least one year, Stemple will  
get his greedy hands on Bridal Veil Mountain. Many's the time  
he's tried, yes, but he hasn't succeeded yet. And I'm betting on  
Jason Bolt to keep his mountain, for he's as quick-witted and  
smooth-talking as you seem to be, Smith me lad."

"One hundred brides," the Kid mused, and this time it was he  
who broke into a grin. "Joshua, I do believe I'm going to like  
Seattle."

*****

They leaned over the ship's rail, curious to look over this  
new town. The one street still looked muddy after a recent rain.  
The buildings lining it were wooden, as befitted timber country.  
They didn't see as many horses as they were used to; most  
everyone was afoot. The town looked small and new and rustic and  
kind of cozy. But it was what surrounded the town that made the  
strongest impression: green. Wave after wave of evergreen, as  
far as the eye could see. And over there--that must be Bridal  
Veil Mountain. To men used to dust and desert and prairie, it  
was almost an exotic sight. If it were possible to get drunk on  
a color, this would be a most intoxicating place.

A distant shout interrupted their reverie. "Ship's in!  
Clancy's here!" The call was taken up and echoed as people came  
running--children first, adults following. The children jumped  
up and down and everybody waved as the ship slid into the dock.

The captain joined them at the rail. "Looks like your  
arrival's quite an event, captain," Heyes remarked.

"Aye, they'll be wanting the news, and to know all about  
these two strangers I'm bringing to town. I'll take ye over to  
Lottie's so ye can settle in before ye get ye're ears bent by  
every busybody in the place."

It had been decided they would stay at Lottie's Saloon ("the  
best place in town--ha, the _only_ place in town!" Clancy had  
amended) while they looked for work. The cost of their little  
ocean voyage had depleted their funds almost to nothing, so  
they'd have to find some method of building them back up right  
away. They had discussed the two primary sources of employment.  
"I think we should try the sawmill first, Kid, seein' as how  
we've had experience carpentering. Then if we don't have any  
luck there, we can try the logging camp."

"Fine by me, Heyes, but this Stemple guy that owns the  
sawmill don't exactly sound a likeable sort, from what Clancy  
says," the Kid answered doubtfully.

"A man don't have to be likeable, Kid, to work for him, long  
as he pays our wages."

"That's so, I guess. Alright, we'll try it the way you  
said."

So now they disembarked with Clancy and proceeded to  
accompany him to the combination saloon/hotel. They had not gone  
far, however, when a giddy young lady blocked their path.

"Why, captain," she tittered, "aren't you going to introduce  
these two distinguished gentlemen you've brought with you?"

"Miss Clume," the captain responded, "ye'se may inform the  
town that this here is Mr. Joshua Smith and Mr. Thaddeus Jones  
from San Francisco and they'll be stayin' at Lottie's, which is  
where we've got to be goin' now, so good day to ye," and he  
brushed past her.

"Miss Clume," nodded Heyes. "Ma'am," said the Kid  
courteously, and they hurried to catch up with the captain.

"Oh, my," said the flustered Miss Clume. "So pleased...we  
must have a long chat later," she called after them and then  
turned to spread the news.

Clancy strode into the saloon, bellowing at the top of his  
lungs, "Lottie! Lottie darlin', where are ye? I've brought ye  
some guests."

"Ooh, Fishface, you don't have to yell my roof off to tell  
me, do you?" A handsome blonde woman of middle age and ample  
proportions came forward to greet the captain. She looked at him  
fondly, despite the derogatory appellation. Heyes and Curry  
exchanged amused looks. So the crusty old sea captain had a  
romantic interest in this port, did he? One who must have been  
quite a beauty in her day, too.

"Now, darlin'," the captain was saying, "I want to present  
to you Mr. Joshua Smith and Mr. Thaddeus Jones, who sailed with  
me from San Francisco, and will be needing a place to stay for  
awhile. Gentlemen, Miss Carlotta Hatfield." Clancy beamed with  
pride as he announced her name, as though he were presenting them  
to royalty.

Heyes swept off his hat and executed a deep bow. "Miss  
Hatfield," he acknowledged, "I hope you can accommodate us in  
your charming inn." Curry followed suit. "How do, ma'am," he  
said.

Lottie gazed from the engaging brown twinkle to the equally  
engaging blue one. "Clancy," she said, "you constantly surprise  
me. I have to thank you for bringing me two such handsome  
guests. Why don't you go help yourself from the bar?" He  
eagerly complied. "I can provide you with a couple of rooms,  
gentlemen. If you'll follow me." She paused at the stairs and  
gave them a measuring look. "Smith and Jones, hmm? I don't need  
to ask for the rent in advance, do I?"

Heyes met her look and twinkled for all he was worth. "Lots  
of folks are named Smith and Jones, ma'am," he stated earnestly.

"And I've met my share of them," she returned shrewdly, "in  
my line of work--which has also taught me, however, not to ask a  
lot of questions. Besides, if Fishface vouches for you..." she  
paused and considered. Heyes visibly relaxed. "...That means  
you must at least be able to afford to buy him a drink!" she  
finished saucily.

That surprised laughs out of them both. "Well, yes, ma'am,"  
Heyes answered easily, "and just a little bit more. We aim to  
look for jobs here, though. Captain Clancy recommended we talk  
to a Mr. Stemple and a Mr. Bolt."

"We just want honest work to earn our keep, ma'am," Curry  
added.

"Well, that's plain speaking." She came to a decision.  
"I'll show you to your rooms." She led the way upstairs. "But  
don't think for a moment that I buy those names," she added under  
her breath.

*****

"I'm sorry, I just don't need any more workers in the mill  
right now," Aaron Stemple was saying. A dark, cultured-looking  
man with strong features and thick, black hair, he seemed like  
he'd be more at home in the city than here on the frontier. Back  
east, maybe, in a law office or a bank. The Kid couldn't quite  
put his finger on it. There was just something familiar...  
suddenly he had it.

"Hold on, though. There is something." Stemple stopped  
them as they were about to leave. "Is either of you any good  
with books?"

"Books?" Curry asked as if pronouncing an unfamiliar word.

"Books, numbers, accounts." Stemple elaborated. "I lost my  
bookkeeper recently. I've been doing all the accounting myself,  
but I'd be relieved to turn it back over to someone else."

"Matter of fact, I have got experience at that," Heyes  
responded. "Not at a sawmill, but other businesses. Saloons  
mostly."

"How about giving it a try then?" They discussed salary.

The last time the Kid could recall Heyes keeping the books  
at a saloon was at Mary Cunningham's place in Wickenburg. Funny,  
considering...

Heyes and Stemple came to an agreement. They shook hands.  
"I'll report first thing in the morning," Heyes was saying.  
"Good luck finding something for your friend," Stemple said,  
nodding toward the Kid. "Thanks," Heyes replied when the Kid was  
silent. "We'll be going now, Thaddeus. Thaddeus," he repeated  
and Curry blinked. "Huh? Oh, yeah, thanks. Good-bye," and he  
followed Heyes from the mill.

"What got into you back there?" Heyes asked him.

"Oh, I was just thinking."

"That explains it."

"Heyes, didn't you think Stemple looked kind of familiar?"

"Familiar? No. Why?"

"Well, I think he kind of looks like your old 'friend' Jim  
Plummer. The one that double-crossed his gang and took off with  
$30,000."

"Stemple and Plummer?" Heyes considered. "Naw, I don't see  
the resemblance. Anyway, what if he does?"

"If you couldn't trust Plummer, maybe Stemple can't be  
trusted either."

"Just because you think they might look a little alike?  
Kid, you been listening to Clancy's stories too much. Let's see  
if we can find the Bolts and get you a job in the fresh air.  
It'll clear your head."

*****

They were successful in getting the Kid a job with the Bolt  
brothers, so he moved out to the logging camp. Heyes continued  
to board at Lottie's while he worked at the mill.

Their jobs suited them for the moment. Logging was hard  
physical work, and ordinarily the Kid preferred doing as little  
of that as possible, but he didn't really mind an occasional dose  
of it, and he was enjoying the clear mountain air. Heyes didn't  
think he'd be able to stand being cooped up in an office over a  
long term, but for now he didn't mind sitting at a desk instead  
of sitting a horse and he found the math an interesting exercise  
for his brain. They both needed a rest after a hard spell of  
running.

The town and its people suited them, too. A nice, quiet  
place, with just enough going on to keep it interesting.  
Evenings at Lottie's Saloon were sociable times. Plenty of  
interesting conversation, and Heyes even managed to get up the  
occasional poker game (for _very_ low stakes and with a great deal  
of care not to win _too_ often--more to keep his hand in than  
anything) with Aaron Stemple, Ben Perkins who ran the general  
store, and Jason Bolt. Heyes found he had a few things in common  
with Jason Bolt. It was the Kid who first pointed it out. "He's  
a natural leader, Heyes, the way he runs that logging camp, he's  
plumb full of ideas, and he can talk as fancy as an actor or a  
politician. Reminds me of someone I know." Bolt was also very  
well-read, and Heyes found it stimulating discussing books with  
someone who enjoyed them as much as he did instead of someone who  
was more inclined to throw one at him than to read one.

Everyone liked Jeremy, the youngest Bolt. Too bad about  
that stammering problem, but it sure hadn't stopped him from  
winning the heart of the prettiest bride in the dormitory. In  
fact, Candy Pruitt occupied most of his free time outside the  
brothers' business.

The Kid spent more time with Joshua, the blond-haired, blue-eyed middle brother.   
They both had a similar carefree, easygoing  
outlook on life, and they both enjoyed spending as much free time  
as possible in the company of the brides.

The brides certainly added to Seattle's social scene.  
Square dances, church socials, picnics--a variety of outings  
enlivened things in the little town. The addition of two  
handsome, eligible bachelors to the local male population  
attracted a great deal of feminine attention. Heyes attended all  
the group activities, danced, chatted, drank tea, and generally  
made himself agreeable, but he didn't single anyone out for  
individual courting. He spent as much time with flighty Biddie  
Clume as he did with pretty Beth Morgan or lively Emily Bradford,  
both of whom had made no secret of their interest in him. Mr.  
Smith remained polite but distant. Mr. Jones, on the other hand,  
was not in the least distant. He showed plenty of interest, just  
not for an extended period of time, in one after another of the  
brides. He seemed to be following Mr. Joshua Bolt's example in  
this regard. Everyone had a good time and no one took it very  
seriously, least of all Mr. Jones.

"It's like a honeybee, Heyes, who wants to flit from flower  
to flower to flower..."

"Kid, you're gettin' downright poetic. It's worryin'."

"Naw, I didn't think that up, Mary Ann said it. Or was it  
Georgianna? I forget."

Heyes grinned. "Kid, I'm glad you're enjoyin' yourself.  
Just don't get carried away. These girls are called 'brides' for  
a reason. Remember, they're all lookin' for husbands."

"Don't worry, Heyes, I'm not about to get hitched. They all  
know my intentions aren't serious."

"It's not _your_ intentions I'm worried about."

*****

The Kid was out for a leisurely stroll, looking over Tacoma.  
He liked to get the feel of a new place. He had come there on a  
business trip with Joshua Bolt, more as company really than to  
render much assistance with the business end of things. So far  
it had been a pleasant trip. He'd enjoyed being on the move  
again, heading toward an unfamiliar destination. Last evening  
had unquestionably been spent more on pleasure than on business--  
what he could recall of it. The Tacoma saloons were definitely a  
bit livelier than Lottie's. He knew he'd had a good time, and  
Bolt had certainly seemed to be enjoying the company of that cute  
little redhead. Right now Bolt was winding up his business  
arrangements before they headed back.

Maybe Heyes was right, the Kid thought as he meandered  
along. Now that he considered it, maybe it wouldn't be a bad  
idea to leave Seattle before things got too sticky with one of  
the brides. He didn't want to tempt fate when they had such a  
good thing going there, but they were rested up now and flush in  
the pockets and there was no reason not to explore some more of  
this territory. Maybe it was time to hit the road again. He'd  
have to bring it up with Heyes when he got back to Seattle.  
Heyes must be starting to chafe over that indoor job by now, too.

"Oh dear, what _am_ I to do?" His musings were interrupted by  
a troubled feminine voice. He looked up to see an extremely  
attractive representative of the fair sex, fashionably attired in  
an outfit that could only be described as 'fetching,' all ruffles  
and frills, twirling a dainty parasol over a cascade of golden  
curls, batting her long lashes over sapphire eyes, and biting her  
cherry lips. She was standing by the side of a heavily-laden  
wagon that was tilting precariously towards a muddy ditch in  
which one of its wheels was mired. The Kid quickly sized up the  
situation and stepped forward.

"Might I be of assistance, ma'am?" he inquired, raising his  
hat politely.

"Oh, how gallant of you!" she exclaimed. "I'm afraid my  
poor horse just isn't up to this task."

"Well now, let's see if we can't give him a little help."  
The Kid rolled up his sleeves and set to work. After unloading  
some of the heavier items from the wagon, he urged the horse  
forward. The animal strained against its harness, the Kid put  
his shoulder to the wheel, and with a concerted heave there was a  
sucking noise and the wheel pulled free.

"Hurrah! Oh, well-done!" The sweet young thing clapped her  
gloved hands in delight.

"My pleasure, ma'am." The Kid soon had the wagon reloaded  
and ready to go.

"Oh, I don't know how to thank you," the vision gushed.  
"You're just like Sir Galahad, coming to the rescue of a lady in  
distress. A blond-haired, blue-eyed knight in shining armor."

The Kid hardly knew how to respond to such a flowery speech.  
With a "shucks, ma'am, tweren't nothin'" air about him, he handed  
her up into the wagon seat. "Glad to be of service. Couldn't  
leave a pretty lady stuck in the mud."

"If I ever need any dragons slain, I shall know whom to call  
on. I am Violet Delarue," she proclaimed with a flourish. "May  
I know your name, sir?"

"It's Jones, ma'am. Thaddeus Jones."

"Thank you again, Mr. Jones. I'm deeply obliged to you for  
coming to my aid."

"Any time, ma'am." He stepped back as she took up the  
reins, and he watched as she drove away, headed out of town.

"That's a mighty pretty lady," he commented appreciatively.  
"A mighty flirt, too."

*****

Meanwhile, Joshua had concluded his business and thought he  
might just have time to bid the little redhead a fond farewell  
before hunting up Thaddeus and heading for home. He looked  
around the saloon she frequented, but didn't spot her. He was  
just asking the bartender about her, when that individual nodded  
towards the door. "Bert there might know where she is, but I  
don't know as I'd ask him."

"Why's that?" Joshua looked curiously at the very large,  
black-bearded bear of a man who'd just entered.

"He used to keep company with Trudy. Kind of has the notion  
he still does, though she has other ideas. He's the jealous  
sort. Wouldn't want to cross him myself."

"Don't know as I would either," Joshua muttered.

Bert was looking around the room. When he spotted Bolt, he  
let out a roar and headed straight for him. "I'm looking for a  
blond-haired, blue-eyed stranger in town, name of Joshua Bolt,"  
he announced menacingly. "Would that be you?"

"Me? No, of course not. What would give you that idea?"

"I checked with the hotels. Ain't but two strangers in town  
fittin' that description. If you're not Bolt, then who are you?"

"Why...why, Th-Thaddeus J-Jones," he stammered.

"Yeah, that was the other one's name all right." Bert  
turned away. "I'll keep looking. I'll find Bolt, and when I  
do..." The rest was lost as he stalked out of the saloon.

Joshua swallowed. That was a close call. He'd better find  
Thaddeus and high-tail it out of town. Oh, no--Thaddeus! He had  
to find Thad before Bert did, or there was bound to be trouble.  
He dashed toward the door.

Before he reached it, a heavy hand thudded down on his  
shoulder. He turned to face a badge.

"Thaddeus Jones?" the sheriff said. "You're under arrest."

*****

"I'm trying to tell you it's all a mistake. I'm not  
Thaddeus Jones. My name's Bolt, Joshua Bolt."

The sheriff shut the cell door with a clang and turned the  
key in the lock. "And I'm tellin' _you_ , you can make up all the  
aliases you want now, I _heard_ you tell that feller you was  
Thaddeus Jones."

"He fits the description alright, sheriff. Blond hair and  
blue eyes, jest like I told you," spoke up the occupant of the  
adjoining cell.

"Sheriff, all you have to do is contact my brother in  
Seattle. He'll come and identify me."

"Don't you listen to 'im, sheriff. He's a slippery one, he  
is, doin' me out of what was rightfully mine. Him and that...  
that hussy!"

"I don't see how you figure that, Shaughnessy, seein' as how  
that payroll was stolen from the army," observed the sheriff.

"Yes and wasn't I the one what did the stealin'?" exclaimed  
Shaughnessy indignantly. "All of the work and none of the gain.  
Duped and double-crossed I was, by that female. 'Have a wee  
dram,' she says, 'to celebrate, like.' Oh, me achin' head--she  
like to ha' killed me wi' whatever it was she slipped in that  
drink. I was that woozy when I woke up, I couldn't see straight  
at all, everything was fadin' in and out--but there was nothin'  
wrong with my hearin'. I followed her and I heard her talkin' to  
him all chummy-like, goin' on about his blond hair and his blue  
eyes, thankin' him for helpin' her, and sayin' as how she'd be  
callin' on him again. And I heard her call him by name just as  
plain as plain: Thaddeus Jones."

"I can't believe Thaddeus was involved in any robbery!"  
Joshua declared.

"Oh, so you're not Jones, but you know him?" the sheriff  
pounced.

"No, I...I mean I didn't say...I mean..." He gave up the  
hopeless tangle. "Well, yes, he works for my brothers and me,  
and he's no thief!"

"Lies, all lies, sheriff. He's just trying to twist out of  
it."

"Pipe down, Shaughnessy. I'll get to the bottom of this.  
If you were in town on business like you claim," the sheriff  
turned back to Joshua, "then your associates here can identify  
you."

"Of course!" Joshua brightened perceptibly.

"You've met them before?" the sheriff questioned.

"Well, no," Joshua's gloom returned, "this was my first  
time."

"We'll just have to send to Seattle then," the sheriff  
decided. "If you are who you say you are, you'll soon be out of  
here. But I'm afraid," he added, "your friend's in a great deal  
of trouble."

*****

"Have you seen my friend?" the Kid was at that moment asking  
the bartender. "Blond fellow I was in here with last night."

"You mean Jones? Seems to have gotten himself arrested."

"No, I...did you say arrested?" The Kid felt a familiar  
sinking feeling.

"Yup, the sheriff nabbed him in here earlier and carted him  
off to jail. Something about a robbery."

"Robbery? I, uh, I'd better go on over there and see what I  
can find out." The Kid stumbled from the saloon in a bit of a  
fog. Which perhaps explains why he never saw it coming.

*****

The door to the Olympia sheriff's office opened and in  
walked a man wearing a deputy's badge. The two lawmen inside  
broke off their conversation.

"Howdy, Luke, what brings you here from Tacoma?" the local  
sheriff asked.

"Trailin' a thief, sheriff. Made off with an army payroll.  
And this'll knock you for a loop--it's a lady. A real looker,  
with yaller curls, driving a horse and wagon. Anyone fittin' her  
description come through here?"

"Not that I heard, but we can ask around. Did she rob that  
payroll all by herself?"

"Naw, we got her accomplices locked up, though. One's name  
o' Shaughnessy and t'other's Thaddeus Jones."

"Did you say Thaddeus Jones?!" the other lawman, who up till  
now had been listening casually, came to attention and demanded  
in a startled, deep voice.

"That's right." The deputy looked at him curiously.

"Oh sorry," apologized the sheriff. "Luke, this is Sheriff  
Lom Trevors, up from Wyoming to deliver a prisoner being  
extradited. Lom, Deputy Luke Jensen from Tacoma."

"What's this Jones look like?" Trevors asked, not wasting  
any time on the niceties.

"Blond hair, blue eyes, didn't get a real good look at him.  
I was in kind of a hurry when I left."

"Hmm, I wonder if it could be the same Jones I'm thinking  
of, gave us a little trouble back in Wyoming. Think I'll circle  
up through Tacoma before I head back, have me a look-see."

"Have a good trip back then, Lom, and thanks again for  
everything. Come on, Luke, let's go look for this lady robber of  
yours."

*****

"Look, Aaron, I told you, Joshua's in trouble, he's in jail,  
and besides me they want someone outside the family to identify  
him, someone who's known in Tacoma. You have business contacts  
there, you are the logical person to go, now are you coming  
peaceably or am I going to have to drag you there?" Jason  
stormed.

"I'd like to see you try it, Bolt," Stemple retorted.  
"What's in it for me? Why should I go out of my way to help you  
or your brother?"

"It isn't helping anyone to have you two at one another's  
throats." Heyes spoke in clipped tones, holding his worry and  
anger on a tight rein. "I'm leaving for Tacoma in the morning,  
with or without either of you." He started for the door.

"You're leaving for Tacoma?" Jason said.

Heyes turned to face them. "That's right. You read the  
note that messenger brought from the sheriff there. Your brother  
may be in jail, but it's under my cousin's name, which means he's  
in some kind of trouble, too. I'm going down there to get him  
out of it. I'd be glad of some help, but I'll do it alone if I  
have to." He looked from one to the other.

"You won't have to," Jason said quietly.

"No. You won't," Stemple added. "I'll come, too."

"Thank you, Aaron," Jason said.

"Don't start with me, Bolt," said Stemple. "I have to  
protect my interests. It won't do me any good if my sawmill  
stands idle because you're too involved with family problems to  
provide me with logs to turn into lumber."

"Ah, you're just an old softie, Aaron."

"Don't be insulting, Bolt."

"We'll leave at first light," Heyes informed them soberly.

*****

Joshua hadn't enjoyed his night in jail. It was  
uncomfortable, his fellow inmate obviously bore him a grudge, and  
he was bothered by worrisome thoughts. He had faith that Jason  
would straighten everything out once word reached him, but he  
felt he had somehow let him down. This should have been such a  
simple business trip. Not only that, but what had happened to  
Thaddeus? He was somewhat surprised not to have had a visit from  
him by now. Surely he must have learned what had happened. And  
to top it all off, another lawman had shown up to look him over.  
He was beginning to feel like a prize turkey.

"So you're Thaddeus Jones?" the lawman asked him.

Joshua sighed. "No, like I keep tellin' everyone, it's all  
a terrible misunderstanding. My name's Joshua Bolt."

"Well, you're not the Thaddeus Jones I know, at any rate."

"You're positive of that, Sheriff Trevors?" asked the  
Tacoma sheriff.

"Oh sure," Trevors drawled, "I'd recognize my man, no  
mistake."

"You know Thaddeus?" asked Joshua.

Before Trevors could answer, the door burst open. In  
charged two men, both talking at once, followed more warily by a  
third.

"Joshua!" Jason cried.

"Who's in charge here?" Stemple demanded.

Heyes looked cautiously around.

"You must be the folks from Seattle." The sheriff stepped  
forward.

Just then Heyes caught sight of Trevors. "Well, if it isn't  
my old friend, Mr. Smith," Lom observed laconically.

"Hello, Lom," Heyes managed to utter in surprise. The Bolts  
and Stemple were fully occupied with the sheriff over the  
question of identity. "How in tarnation do you come to be  
involved in all this, and where's the Kid?" Heyes resumed in low  
tones.

"I was just about to ask you the same question," Lom  
replied. "I was in Olympia on official business when I heard  
that a Thaddeus Jones was being held here on suspicion of aiding  
and abetting a payroll heist, so I moseyed on up to investigate.  
Instead of the Kid, I found this Bolt boy here. What are you two  
doing up in Washington anyway?"

"That's kind of a long story, Lom. Tell it to you later.  
Right now I'm kinda concerned to find out what did happen to the  
Kid. I _know_ he can't be involved in any robbery."

"Maybe Bolt can shed some light on that." They looked over  
to where the sheriff was releasing Joshua from his cell. His  
brother grabbed him in a big bear hug and pounded him on the  
back, while Stemple waited to shake their hands. "I had to  
practically force Jeremy to stay behind in Seattle," Jason was  
saying.

"Seeing as how your story's backed up by so many folks,  
including Sheriff Trevors there," the sheriff nodded at Lom, "I'm  
inclined to believe you. But this means I'll have to start  
looking for your friend, if he's the Jones involved in this  
case."

A clamor arose from all sides as everyone began raising  
questions and objections. Finally Jason Bolt made himself heard  
over the uproar. "Hold it. HOLD IT! I have an idea. None of  
us seems to know the whole story. Why don't we go have a drink  
and talk it out, and maybe we'll come up with some answers."

That suggestion suited everybody, so the five travellers  
headed for the nearest saloon.

*****

The Kid didn't want to open his eyes. Somehow he just knew  
if he opened his eyes he wasn't going to like what he saw. On  
the other hand, he didn't like being in the dark. He opened his  
eyes.

He was wrong. He liked what he saw very much. He started  
to sit up to get a better look, but just then a mule began to  
kick in his skull (at least that's what it felt like) and he fell  
back with a groan. This attracted the attention of the  
ministering angel he'd glimpsed, and she flew to his side, cooing  
and fussing.

"Easy now, easy. I don't think you should try to sit up  
just yet," she advised. "You walloped your head pretty hard  
against that post when Bert hit you."

"Bert. Hit me," the Kid repeated groggily in a croaking  
voice.

"Ooh, here, try and drink some water." His nurse supported  
him helpfully and held a cup to his lips while he sipped.  
"There, that's better," she said as she eased him back onto the  
pillows. Her hair formed a fuzzy red cloud about her face.

"I know you," the Kid said, gazing at her fixedly. Somehow  
his brain just wasn't working up to speed.

"We met the other evening in the saloon, though I spent most  
of the time with your friend Joshua," she reminded him.

Joshua? the Kid thought. He glanced around the small room.  
Where _was_ Heyes anyway? But somehow the image of him and the  
redhead didn't quite mesh. He frowned in concentration. Not  
Heyes, Joshua _Bolt_ , he suddenly remembered.

Trudy saw his frown, and plunged on in a rush. "I'm so  
sorry you were hurt so bad, and so is Bert really. He didn't  
mean for you to slam into that post when he hit you. It was an  
accident."

"Accident." The Kid couldn't seem to stop repeating what he  
heard.

"Yes, truly, and I hauled into him good and proper over it,  
you can believe me. He won't soon be up to that sort of nonsense  
again," she affirmed darkly, and the Kid almost felt sorry for  
the absent Bert. A twinge of pain shot through his head.  
Almost. "If only I'd gotten there sooner, I coulda told him he  
had the wrong man besides. But there. Isn't that just like him  
to go charging in like a bull, with never a thought for the  
rights of the matter?"

Wrong man. That was it, the wrong man. It was coming back  
to him now. Something about Bolt being in jail, because they  
thought he was Thaddeus Jones. Then he had walked right into the  
belligerent Bert's fist, and everything had gone black until he  
woke up just now.

"Have you heard any news about Joshua?" he asked. "Is he  
still in jail?"

"Jail? Why, whatever do you mean?" She was obviously at a  
loss.

"I heard there was trouble, it must be a mistake, but I was  
on my way to look into it when I, er, collided with your friend  
Bert. I never did find out what happened." And whether I'm in  
the clear, he thought to himself.

"I hadn't heard. I'll go right over there now and see what  
I can find out." She placed a cool, damp cloth on his forehead.  
"You just lie here and rest easy. I'll come back directly I  
learn anything and let you know." She gathered her shawl and  
left the room.

The Kid closed his eyes again. Thinking was painful stuff.  
How did Heyes do so gol-danged much of it? It would be far  
better for his aching head to just stop thinking and let himself  
drift into sleep. He dozed.

*****

Trudy made her way down the stairs from her room above the  
saloon. As she passed the side entrance, she thought she heard a  
familiar voice and glanced inside. Sure enough, the very person  
she was looking for, his blond head standing out noticeably in a  
group of darker ones. He was seated at a table with four other  
gentlemen.

She approached them excitedly. "Joshua," she called out,  
"you're not in jail!"

"Trudy!" He caught her by the waist and spun her around.  
"My friends here managed to convince the sheriff I wasn't a  
dangerous outlaw after all," he laughed, "and he set me free."

"Your other friend will be so relieved to hear it," she  
smiled. "He's been fretting about you."

"Other friend?" Heyes pounced on the words.

"Why, yes. He was a mite anxious to know how you'd fared  
with the law. I was just on my way to find out."

"You know where he is then?" Heyes questioned insistently.

"He's right upstairs in my room. I've been tending to him,"  
she hurried to explain, to forestall any raised eyebrows. "I'm  
afraid he's been in a little fight and was knocked out for a  
spell. He's come to now, though, and I think he'll be alright  
once he gets over his headache."

"Can you take us to him? Now. Please," Heyes requested  
abruptly, already moving toward the staircase in the hall.

"Right this way," Trudy agreed, and they all trooped after.

*****

The door flew open and slammed against the wall. Jerked  
from his half-sleep, the Kid winced.

"Thaddeus!" Heyes exclaimed as he strode towards the bed.

"Howdy, H..., er, Joshua, you're a sight for sore eyes." He  
peered round his partner at the others crowding in the doorway.  
"So're you, Joshua," he directed at the younger Bolt. "Am I glad  
to see you walking around free. Thanks, Trudy." He began to  
take in the others. "Jason. Mr. Stemple. Half of Seattle must  
be here." Then he caught sight of Lom. "Uh, oh. I _am_ in  
trouble," he noted apprehensively.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" reproved Lom.

"If you are in trouble, you can blame it on your, er,  
gentlemanly instincts," scolded Heyes, relieved to see his cousin  
seemed none the worse for his "fight". "How come your path  
always seems to cross that of the peskiest female around?"

"Huh? What female?" The Kid was all at sea.

"The official description I heard was 'a real looker with  
yaller curls,'" quoted Lom. "Apparently there was a falling out  
among thieves: she double-crossed her partner and made off with  
the loot, and he's under the impression she had help from you.

Comprehension dawned. "Miss Violet Delarue!" The Kid  
whistled in admiration. "So that's what she was up to."

Heyes sighed. "We'd better have the whole story." They all  
settled down to a long discussion.

*****

Everybody had spoken their piece, and now a thoughtful  
silence reigned.

Trudy had had to leave for work, "but you all can use the  
room for as long as you like," she had generously offered. "It's  
the least I can do."

So now the six men sat, digesting all the sides of the story  
they'd heard, and mulling over what to do next.

"I don't understand why you can't simply go to the sheriff  
and tell him what happened, Thad," said Joshua Bolt.

"My experience with the law doesn't exactly fill me with  
confidence that they'll take me at my word," the Kid answered.  
"Present comp'ny excepted," he added with a look at Lom.

"The problem is," Heyes commented, "it's our word against  
this Shaughnessy's. With no witnesses, there's no reason for the  
sheriff to believe us and not him."

"Anyone would take the word of a law-abiding citizen over a  
self-avowed criminal," proclaimed Aaron Stemple. "Stands to  
reason."

"But he doesn't know us," Curry objected. "He has no reason  
to trust strangers."

"Well, he might want to find out a bit more about you,"  
conceded Stemple, "but that shouldn't be a problem, should it?  
It might just take up some of your time."

"Yeah, about 20 years' worth," muttered the Kid.

"The thing is," put in Heyes, "our backgrounds won't stand a  
lot of checking." He looked at the Kid and then at Lom. "We may  
as well tell them. They deserve to know who they're dealing with  
at this point." Curry and Trevors nodded their consent. Heyes  
plunged into his tale.

"I'm afraid we've deceived you gentlemen somewhat. Our  
names aren't Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. They're Hannibal  
Heyes and Kid Curry." He met three blank looks. "See, Kid, I  
told you folks up here hadn't even heard of us."

"Are you famous?" Joshua asked.

"You might say notorious." Heyes went on. "We've done some  
outlawin' and we've got some railroads and banks pretty sore at  
us. We're trying to go straight now, and Lom here worked out a  
deal with the governor of Wyoming for amnesty if we can stay out  
of trouble long enough to prove we deserve it. But he wants it  
kept secret for political reasons, and in the meantime we're  
still wanted. We never killed anyone, so we're not facing a  
hangin', but it'll mean 20 years in prison if we're caught.  
There's a pretty sizable reward to encourage people to turn us  
in, and the posters do say dead or alive."

"We were trying to avoid some of those people when we  
boarded Clancy's ship," interposed the Kid. "We thought Seattle  
might be a good place to lie low for awhile, throw the bounty  
hunters off the scent."

"So you can see why we can't afford to have the sheriff  
snooping into our identities," Heyes finished. "Even if the  
Kid's cleared of this robbery charge, they'll send us back to  
Wyoming to face charges there. And there go our amnesties."

The Bolts and Stemple were silent for a moment while they  
let what they'd heard sink in. Then Jason Bolt spoke up.

"That's what the west is all about, isn't it, giving a man a  
second chance to make a new life for himself. I've known many  
out here who were trying to leave the past behind. I'd say you  
boys deserve that same chance, and we're willing to support you,  
aren't we?" He looked at his brother and Stemple for  
confirmation. "Hear, hear," Joshua applauded, and even Stemple  
nodded. Jason continued. "I'd say the idea is to convince the  
sheriff of your veracity without his feeling compelled to check  
up on you. I think the best plan is to simply charge in there  
and overwhelm him with our sincerity. We'll just talk him into  
being on our side. Without sounding too immodest, I'm generally  
thought to have something of a gift when it comes to the art of  
speaking, and I've noticed you seem to have a talented way with  
words yourself, Smith, er, I mean Heyes."

"If you don't mind, Bolt, I'd just as soon you continued to  
use our aliases."

"Couldn't you come up with something a little more inventive  
than Smith and Jones?" Stemple asked.

"Those names were Lom's idea, and we like to stay on his  
good side," Heyes grinned.

"Smith, then," Jason resumed. "Between the two of us, we  
ought to be able not only to get the sheriff to go along with our  
version of the story but to have him thinking it was all his own  
idea. What do you say?"

"Well, Kid? You willing to rely on my gift of gab?"

"Put that silver tongue of yours to some use, there, Heyes."

"I dunno. Still seems kinda chancy." He looked at Lom.

"You got to clear the Kid of those charges. You just take  
off now and there's bound to be an investigation. They'll find  
out who you are and you can say good-bye to your amnesty."

"Alright, we'll risk it," Heyes decided. "Kid, can you get  
out of that bed yet?"

"I'm sure ready to try." With a little help, he was soon  
upright and taking a few wobbly steps. "I'll manage, long as I  
don't have to run any footraces."

Heyes took a deep breath. "Here we go, then." They walked  
out the door, across the street, and right into the lions' den.

*****

And it worked just like they planned. The golden throat and  
the silver tongue together were unbeatable. They wove such a  
glittering web of words about that poor sheriff he would have  
been willing to lock up his own mother before such a model of  
shining innocence as Thaddeus Jones. He apologized for any  
trouble they'd been given, hoped they wouldn't hold it against  
Tacoma's good name, and practically offered them an honor guard  
back to Seattle.

They were back on the street in no time, congratulating each  
other on their brilliance and the Kid on being a free man again.

"You're sure you won't ride up to Seattle with us?" Heyes  
was asking Lom.

"No, I've taken enough extra time on this little side trip  
as it is. I've got to get back to Porterville and see how much  
trouble my deputies have gotten up to in my absence."

"How about yourselves?" Jason asked. "Now that things here  
are settled, why can't you stay in Seattle?"

"No, we'll go back long enough to collect our things and  
make our good-byes, but I don't want to hang around where the  
sheriff here knows where to get his hands on us if he starts to  
have second thoughts," Heyes explained.

"Besides, it wouldn't be fair to you to put you in the  
position of abetting a couple of wanted outlaws, now that you  
know who we are," added the Kid.

"Yes, on that subject, Smith," Stemple remarked, "I hope you  
won't take it amiss if I give the books a careful going-over  
before you depart."

"Why, Aaron, you're joking," Jason said in mock surprise,  
noting Stemple's grin.

"No hard feelings," Heyes laughed and clapped his employer  
on the shoulder.

"I guess I was wrong about him and Plummer," the Kid  
admitted.

"What's that?" Stemple asked.

"Oh, just one of the Kid's fool ideas. Most of his are,"  
Heyes taunted good-naturedly.

"I can see I'll be losing my competition," Joshua Bolt  
commented. "I'll have the brides all to myself again."

"Yes, you and about a hundred loggers," said Jason.

"I said _competition_ , Jason," Joshua laughingly clarified.

"Well, I'll be on my way to the livery stable to pick up my  
horse," interjected Lom. "If you two boys were serious about  
seeing if they had a couple of mounts for sale, why don't you  
walk over with me?"

They agreed, and the high-spirited bantering continued all  
the way there.

*****

The Kid was bidding a fond farewell to Georgianna. He'd  
already been through the same scene with Mary Ann and Sally and  
Lizzie and... So he should have had it down pat. But Georgie  
was being just a bit more clinging.

"I just don't see why you have to leave," she complained.  
"You were fitting in so beautifully in Seattle. I was hoping you  
might stay."

"I explained that, Georgie. It's business." The Kid was  
unhappy with the way the conversation was going. "My partner and  
I just can't turn down such a good opportunity."

"But there's opportunity in Seattle." Her velvety brown  
eyes, glistening with unshed tears, reproached him.

"It's not the same," he floundered and looked up in relief  
as Heyes approached. His partner'd gotten tired of waiting for  
him and had come in search of him. He'd overheard him stumbling  
over his explanations, had taken pity on him, and decided to come  
to the rescue. Otherwise, they'd never get out of Seattle.

"Time to go, Thaddeus," he stated firmly, nodding politely  
to the young lady.

"I don't believe a word you've said," she pouted.

Heyes looked at Curry, who just shrugged helplessly. He  
looked back at Georgianna. "Alright, ma'am. You've got us dead  
to rights. We'll trust you with the truth. We're not leaving  
town just for a business opportunity. Our names aren't even  
Smith or Jones."

"They're not?" she quavered. Curry looked stunned.

"No, they're not. I'm Hotchkiss, he's Rembacker."

"I thought I was Hotchkiss and you were Rembacker," the Kid  
muttered. Heyes kicked him in the shin.

"We're special agents of the government of these United  
States," he continued. "We were here on a secret mission, very  
hush-hush, and now we have to report back to Washington. It's  
your patriotic duty, ma'am, not to give us away. I know we can  
count on you." He took the Kid by the elbow and led him away, as  
Georgianna looked after them open-mouthed.

"Heyes, she's never gonna believe that. And she'll spread  
it all over town by sundown. And isn't that story gettin' a  
little old?"

"Works every time, don't it? Anyhow, it don't matter who  
believes it. It won't be any worse than any of the other rumors  
that'll probably get passed around. The more far-fetched, the  
better--it'll keep anyone from guessing the truth. Come on,  
let's go say good-bye to Lottie."

*****

They had expected the Bolts to confide in their brother  
Jeremy, and they had wanted Clancy and Lottie to know the real  
story, but otherwise the town was in the dark. "I knew there was  
a story behind those names," Lottie had said. She hugged them  
now as they took their leave of her. "You be careful now. Don't  
get those handsome faces into more trouble than you can help."

"Yes, ma'am," the Kid smiled as Heyes gently kissed her  
cheek.

"If ye'se should ever be wantin' a job at sea, ye can ship  
aboard me vessel anytime," Clancy offered.

"Thank you, captain, we'll keep it in mind," Heyes said.

Their other friends had walked over to the saloon to see  
them on their way.

"I'll try to console all the broken hearts you're leaving  
behind," Joshua assured the Kid.

"You're the man for the job," Curry laughed.

"Do you have plans?" Aaron asked.

"We thought we'd ride across Idaho to Montana. We have an  
old friend there we haven't seen in awhile. It's time we paid  
him a visit," Heyes answered.

"Remember, you're always welcome here," Jason said. "We  
need men like you to build Seattle. If the day comes when you  
get those amnesties, and you're looking for a place to settle  
down, remember you've got friends here, and a future." He held  
out his hand.

Heyes clasped it firmly. "We won't forget."

He and the Kid mounted their recently acquired horses, waved  
good-bye, and rode out of town.

"This won't be an easy place to forget, Heyes," observed the  
Kid as they rode. "We could do worse than come back here after  
we get our amnesty."

"We could at that, Kid. We could at that."

THE END


End file.
